Rays of Sunshine
by The Slash Faerie
Summary: What if Justin didn't make it to the street lamp outside of Babylon? What if a little over a year later, Michael and Justin meet, and Mikey is more than a little interested in the blonde? And what about Brian? Things aren't always as the seem.


**Disclaimer:** I **don't** own _Queer as Folk_, or the characters involved. They belong to Cowlip, Showtime, and Russel T. Davies. I'm just borrowing them.

**Rating:** PG-13 to R.

**Summary:** What if Justin didn't make it to the street lamp out side of Babylon? What if a little over a year later, Michael and Justin meet, and Mikey is more than a little interested in the blonde? He's not the only one, as Justin seems to be quipping everyone's interest, including The Stud of Liberty Ave, Brian Kinney. The mysterious Justin Taylor hides a dark secret. But he isn't the only one. Brian has been hiding something as well--will he tell Justin?

**Warnings:** This fic deals with **very mature** themes. If you are not comfortable with this, then please don't read it!

**Content:** This is an AU 'What if' fif. It contians **rape**, references to rape/non-consensual sex, violence, m/m slash, f/f slash, possible male/male sex, angst, Justin/OMC, Slight Justin/Michael, Implied Justin/Ethan, Anti-Ethan, depression, some fluff, and **of course** Justin/Brian. If any of this offends you then please hit the back button.

**Characters:** Justin Taylor, Brian Kinney, Michael Novotny, Original Male Character, The Sapp, and Daphne Chanders.

**Minor Characters:** Emmett Honeycutt, Ted Schmidt, Lindsay Peterson, Melanie Marcus, Gus Peterson-Marcus, Debbie Novotny, Jennifer Taylor, Craig Taylor, and Ethan Gold.

**Authors Notes:** This is my first _Queer as Folk_ fic. The characters might be slightly OC, and the plot is probably over done, but eh. This story is going to be pretty far fetched, but then again, most of my fics are. Well, read on!

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Rays of Sunshine  
  
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**Chapter 1: Prologue**

_ Heavy mist poured throughout the alleyway, the night sky hazy. The moon was on a holiday it seemed, as he looked up searching the stars. As he silently wondered where they'd take him tonight, a makeup laden drag queen, with a very noticeable five o'clock shadow slinked pasted him, giving him a once—no **twice** over. Oh God, he thought, inwardly groaning, figures the first time I grow some balls and come down here, I get checked out by a drag queen.  
  
This night was definitely not running as smoothly as he'd hoped. He quickly sifted through his pockets, grabbing a much needed cigarette, and lit it with the ease of a pro. Walking quickly through the crowed street, still deep in thought, he inadvertently bumped into something—or someone. He tripped at the force of the impact of running into something so very solid, very hard, and accidentally dropped his cigarette. Clumsily sticking his arms out in front of him, a feeble attempt at gaining his balance, he waited for the inevitable fall to the hard, unforgiving pavement. He was beyond confusion when that fall never came. It was then, staring blankly at the sidewalk, that he registered the pair of strong hands gripping tightly at his slim waist. That's sure to leave some marks, he thought wryly. Within seconds, that pair of strong hands was accompanied by a very stronger, well built pair of arms wrapping themselves around his lithe body, pulling him closer, until his chest pressed up against another very firm one.  
  
He figured this was his cue to raise his chin, and look at his savior. A gruff looking man seemingly in his forties stared back at him, a smirk in place, and a glint in his eyes. He didn't like that smirk at all—in fact, it sort of gave him the creeps. He gently attempted to extract his body from the man's firm grasp, but to no avail.  
  
Shit, this guy is strong. I'm only in fuckin' high school—I'm nowhere near as built as him, he thought rapidly. Smiling up at the man, he calmly thanked him. The man's smirk grew, and his grip tightened.  
  
"Um . . . I'm fine now . . . er . . . sir. I don't mean to sound rude, but do you think you could let me go?" He hated how timid he sounded. What was he, some dickless little faggot? Since when was he scared of anything—of anyone? A little voice in the back of his head felt the need to put in its two cents. Because you've never known the feeling of danger like the one you're sensing now, it said to him. And he knew that stupid little voice that he normally ignored was right. He needed to leave; he could do this some other time, maybe during the day. Baby steps. He needed to take baby steps.  
  
The man smirked down at him. "Actually, I was hoping a sweet little thing like you would let me show you around. You know, there are some really amazing places on this strip. Meathook, if you're into leather, Boi Toi if you're into twinks, Woody's if you're looking for a good game of pool and a quick fuck, and Babylon if you want to dance and fuck the night away."  
  
Shit. He had no idea where he was going. Maybe . . . maybe he could just ask the guy to show him to the nearest bus stop. That couldn't hurt, could it? Still deep in his own thoughts, he felt himself being tugged along by the strong pair of arms around his middle.  
  
"Come on baby, I'll take you wherever you wanna go." He had no idea where they were going, and he tried to tell this guy that he wanted to get to a bus stop, but he couldn't seem to get the words out. All that escaped his lips were stutters coming from a trembling, weak sounding voice, that he hoped wasn't his. Before he knew it, the man was steering him into a dark alleyway next to a dingy looking building, with a flashing sign in the window reading: 'Free whip on you're first visit! Come to Meathook today!' Not that he had much time to pay attention to details.  
  
"I can sneak you in this place through the back door," came the low breathy whisper in his ear, and the grip around him tightened. He felt trapped, and the need to run. Run very far away from this man, and this place—the place where he thought he'd finally fit in.  
_

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He woke up with a strangled cry, and bolted up right in his bed. Shit. When would this end? Why couldn't he just stop thinking about it, get over it and get a life? It was only when he brushed his hand over his face that he realized he was crying. **Again.** How many fucking tears had he shed over this? How many would be enough? He could taste the mixture of sweat and tears on his lips, and broke down.  
  
His body racked with sobs, unable to keep his emotions from bubbling to the top. Wrapping his arms tightly around his chest, he hoped he wouldn't wake his roommate. Neither one of them barely slept anymore. It wasn't uncommon of him to wake up in the middle of the night, tears streaming down his cheeks from a horrible nightmare. Hell, it was practically a nightly ritual. Though his nightmares weren't like normal ones. His were **real**, a harsh reality that he had to endure, and was glad was over. Though the dreadful memories lived on to haunt him.  
  
His roommate would usually rush in and hold him until he fell back into a fitful sleep. Though he knew she didn't get much sleep after each of these encounters. He hated that she looked like death warmed over every morning because she'd been up with him—she did it all for him. He couldn't begin to express how grateful he was to have a friend like her.  
  
As if on cue, Daphne rushed through his door—not needing time to take in the sight of her best friend since childhood crying, looking like an innocent twelve year old in need of a hug—before wrapping her arms around him. But when he lifted his head up, and she saw the tortured, heartbreakingly painful look in his deep blue eyes, she knew that the his innocence that she loved dearly had been stripped from him. Every night she was reminded of this when she came in to soothe his fears and calm his sobs. Tonight was no different. She held him close, her arms wrapped around his slim middle, as he put his head on her shoulder. She rested her chin on the top of his head, the light blonde hair that she loved so much tickling her nose.  
  
Rubbing his back, she spoke calmly and soothingly to him. "Shhh, baby. It'll be alright. I love you. Shhhhh . . . It's all going to work out, Justin." They both hoped that Daphne's words would come true.  
  
Justin just hoped he could hold on long enough to find out. 

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Authors Notes

Okay, that wasn't my best work, but eh. Tell me what you think. Hate it? Love it? Indifferent? I don't care, let me know. I'm not sure when there will be a new chapter, but I hope fairly soon. Well, I'm done. I'm out like disco suits and mullet cuts!

_**Rage and Sunshine,**_

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_**The Slash Faerie**_


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